a radio was on.

I recently got in touch with a friend from a long time ago--really, lifetimes ago, back when I was a young graduate student at Princeton, about to make a series of decisions (to marry young, to have my first child, to move across the country away from my PhD program) that would set me off down a road of motherhood and work that roll up to the fact that I have never, not once in my life, gone on any vacation by myself, let alone leave my family for ten days, as I am about to do when I go to California for a cancer retreat.  But I digress, as per usual.  The friend wrote me back and said something like I hope when I reach the end of my days I also--hold up, who the hell cares what else he said, the  end of my days ? does he think I'm at the end of my days? Because I don't think I'm at the end of my days. Or is this like people yelling support on the sidelines near the end of the marathon: people who cheerfully trill out "you're almost there!"-- a sentiment which

I recently got in touch with a friend from a long time ago--really, lifetimes ago, back when I was a young graduate student at Princeton, about to make a series of decisions (to marry young, to have my first child, to move across the country away from my PhD program) that would set me off down a road of motherhood and work that roll up to the fact that I have never, not once in my life, gone on any vacation by myself, let alone leave my family for ten days, as I am about to do when I go to California for a cancer retreat.  But I digress, as per usual.  The friend wrote me back and said something like I hope when I reach the end of my days I also--hold up, who the hell cares what else he said, the  end of my days ? does he think I'm at the end of my days? Because I don't think I'm at the end of my days. Or is this like people yelling support on the sidelines near the end of the marathon: people who cheerfully trill out "you're almost there!"-- a sentiment whic

I recently got in touch with a friend from a long time ago--really, lifetimes ago, back when I was a young graduate student at Princeton, about to make a series of decisions (to marry young, to have my first child, to move across the country away from my PhD program) that would set me off down a road of motherhood and work that roll up to the fact that I have never, not once in my life, gone on a vacation by myself, let alone leave my family for ten days, as I am about to do when I go to California for a cancer retreat.  He wrote me back and said something like I hope when I reach the end of my days I also --who the hell cares what else he said, does he think I'm at the end of my days? Because I don't think I'm at the end of my days.  Or is this like people yelling support on the sidelines of a marathon, yelling "you're almost there!" which fills you with irrational anger: don't tease me like that, it's only mile 25 and there is over a mile left and th

I recently got in touch with a friend from a long time ago--really, lifetimes ago, back when I was a young graduate student at Princeton, about to make a series of decisions (to marry young, to have my first child, to move across the country away from my PhD program) that would set me off down a road of motherhood and work that roll up to the fact that I have never, not once in my life, gone on a vacation by myself, let alone leave my family for ten days, as I am about to do when I go to California for a cancer retreat.  He wrote me back and said something like I hope when I reach the end of my days I also --who the hell cares what else he said, does he think I'm at the end of my days? Because I don't think I'm at the end of my days.  Or is this like people yelling support on the sidelines of a marathon, yelling "you're almost there!" which fills you with irrational anger: don't tease me like that, it's only mile 25 and there is over a mile left and t

I was rereading The Year of Magical Thinking the other day in honor of the young Sara and Arsi, who wed in Philadelphia last month and who were each taken with the book, and I realized with a start that I am also engaged in magical thinking, not, of course, that my dead husband is still alive, coming back for his abandoned shoes, and life, and wife, but, that I don't really have cancer.  It's easy to fool myself because so far I have been so lucky.  I take one single pill each day that is my targeted chemotherapy, and a dozen other pills to keep the pain and symptoms from the single pill at bay.  So this is certainly different than the life I lead before, with its occasional ibuprofen.  But not enough so that I dream in cancer. I think I will be done with my year of magical thinking when I have accepted the cancer enough that I dream the dreams of someone with cancer.  Right now, I dream colorful, complicated dreams in which I do not have cancer and which end with a clattering

I was rereading The Year of Magical Thinking the other day in honor of the young Sara and Arsi, who wed in Philadelphia last month and who were each taken with the book, and I realized with a start that I am also engaged in magical thinking, not, of course, that my dead husband is still alive, coming back for his abandoned shoes, and life, and wife, but, that I don't really have cancer.  It's easy to fool myself because so far I have been so lucky.  I take one single pill each day that is my targeted chemotherapy, and a dozen other pills to keep the pain and symptoms from the single pill at bay.  So this is certainly different than the life I lead before, with its occasional ibuprofen.  But not enough so that I dream in cancer. I think I will be done with my year of magical thinking when I have accepted the cancer enough that I dream the dreams of someone with cancer.  Right now, I dream colorful, complicated dreams in which I do not have cancer and which end with a clatteri